


The Churn

by deskclutter



Category: Last Unicorn - Peter S. Beagle
Genre: Community: 31_days, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-25
Updated: 2010-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-10 06:37:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deskclutter/pseuds/deskclutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Schmendrick can too turn cream into butter. Just not with magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Churn

**Title:** The Churn  
**Day/Theme:** February 4th / But to hear the mermaids singing  
**Series:** The Last Unicorn  
**Character/Pairing:** Schmendrick, Molly  
**Rating:** PG

 

It was most commonly believed of Schmendrick the Magician that he, being the most bumbling, fumbling magician in living memory, could not turn cream to butter. Application of so simple a spell required a solid grasp of theory, which Schmendrick did not possess.

In truth, as Schmendrick was not a user of magic but a use of magic, he was entirely unwise to the ways of ensorcelling cream into butter.

But he was not unaware of how to turn cream to butter through more mundane means.

"Really," said Molly Grue sceptically.

"I'll prove it to you," said Schmendrick stoutly, or as stoutly as one could when overworked by a mad king. He waved a hand. "It was an attempt to find myself in returning to my roots, insofar as I have roots. I was a farm lad, you see."

"Did you churn butter, as a farm boy?" asked Molly. Her hands combed through her draggling locks of hair.

Schmendrick paused. "I confess I did not," he said. "But butter is churned on a farm."

"And what sort of farm did you hail from?" went Molly on, relentlessly. "A farm that kept cows?"

"It was a turnip farm, if you must know," said Schmendrick stiffly, over the smug silence. The firelight flickered strangely.

Even when he was known far better than Niko his tutor, Schmendrick never could quite get the feat of turning cream to butter down pat.

("I've found a farm for the night," said Molly.

"Shall I have the chance to prove myself in the dairy, then?" said Schmendrick, coiling his long legs.

"A fine dairymaid you'd make," Molly snorted. Her hair fell across her shoulders in a pleated tail. "Silly man, I've never doubted your skill with the mundane."

"Oh," said Schmendrick, and then again, "oh.")


End file.
